Stripped
by thegenuineimitation
Summary: When you take away the memories of every event that made a person, what's left? N/S. Post-Series.
1. Chapter 1: Dead to the World

**Stripped**

**Chapter One: Dead to the World**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own No. 6.

**Author's Note:** Hi guys, *waves*, this is my first time writing fanfiction for this fandom, usually I hang out in Harry Potter, but I noticed how few fics there were in here with an arcing plot and then I started thinking about what Shion might be doing without Nezumi and the result is...starting another project when I haven't come even close to finishing any of the other ones I have on the go.

Um, for any readers who have me on author alert and are only here because they're wondering what the bleep I'm doing starting another story...sorry!

Anywho, I've only ever seen the anime but from what I gather the differences between the anime and the novels aren't too major. This story begins post-series about four years after the departure of Nezumi.

**WARNING:** This story contains Slash (M/M) as well as things like violence, torture, gore and death. Note the rating, not for kiddies.

Now on to the story!

* * *

At seven in the morning the out of the way street in Mid-Town lined with cozy restaurants and chic boutiques was already filled with gawkers, people who'd stopped on their way to work, or to the market that had sprung up three blocks over, to stare wide-eyed at the scene spread before them with that strange mixture of horrified fascination twisting their faces.

Shion shook his head at their antics, at their ignorance, as he scraped his shaggy hair back from his face into a messy ponytail and covered it with his cap. Moving quickly he shrugged into the familiar weight of the dark blue jacket with white block letters printed across the back that read coroner. Reaching into his pocket he found his ID card and clipped it onto his breast pocket, grabbing his field kit before slamming the trunk of his car shut.

The normally idyllic street was cordoned off with bright yellow police tape separating the civilians from the officers and the forensic team milling around on the other side, taking photos and carefully cataloguing everything about the scene.

Shion marched forward from where he'd parked his car approaching the tall well-muscled black man with a shaved head who was guarding the perimeter like some sort of watch dog.

"Morning, Bear,"

"Doc," he greeted in a low rumbling voice.

He held out his hand and Shion handed over his ID card for scanning. The scanner gave a chirpy little blip and he handed Shion back the card without any unnecessary motion.

"They giving you trouble?" asked Shion nodding at the gawkers.

"Vultures," somehow the tall man made the one word into a sneer without changing the inflection of his voice or the no nonsense expression on his face.

"Hmm," hummed Shion in agreement as he ducked under the tape and into the melee of the crime scene, "Is Lin here yet?" he asked.

Bear just flicked his eyes to a point beyond Shion's shoulder pointedly before turning his scrutiny back to the crowd splayed out before him.

"You're here, finally," called a familiar voice.

Shion turned around and found himself faced with Bear's partner.

"Detective Lin," he greeted the blond delicately boned woman of mixed ancestry who was striding towards him with a polite nod and a soft smile.

"Shion," she said with a brisk nod of her own.

Osana Lin was a beautiful woman, short and as delicate looking as fine china but her dark sensual almond shaped eyes were perpetually cold and analytical and her wide expressive mouth permanently set in a tight lipped frown. She was like a finely crafted blade, beautiful to look at but still, in truth, deadly steel.

He'd like to say they were friends but with Lin being the way that she was it was difficult to tell. In some ways she was even more inscrutable than her monosyllabic counterpart.

"Is it the same as the others?" he asked.

"That's what I'm hoping you can confirm," she said, "The MO is the same, chains, barbed wire, but we have to rule out copycats at this stage of the game because the press is of course swarming over this case like flies on shit,"

Shion nodded frowning with concentration as they approached the body. The faint scent of charred flesh and the metallic tang of dried blood in the air were detectable even with the strong breeze and the officers supervising the forensics team were looking a tad green around the gills.

The victim was female, mid-thirties with a slim, toned figure, a woman who had taken good care of her body. A runner, Shion thought, examining the thick calf muscle on the left leg. As with the other five victims the woman's right side had been burnt away to bones and those bones had been carefully wound with barbed wire. The left side was left intact, the flesh riddled with cuts and paramortem bruising and the message carved along the ribs...

"_Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality_," Lin read off carefully blank-faced in the way that told Shion she was probably seething with anger internally.

"Edgar Allen Poe," Shion commented.

Lin raised an eyebrow, "Who was he, another writer?"

"Yes, circa the early seventeenth century, his best known works are of mystery and macabre,"

"I didn't know you were into that kind of thing," she commented.

"Neither did I until I actually started reading the books on my shelves," Shion said wryly pulling on the close fitting blue vinyl gloves, "Do you have an ID for our victim?" he asked stepping closer to the body.

It was swinging slightly in the wind, chained to the steel frame of the sign above the store advertising for fine wines and cheeses the old fashioned manacles fastened just tightly enough to keep her wrists from slipping out of them.

"Mai Risako, 32, she was a freelance journalist, her twin sister, Lai, saw the body on the six o'clock news and called in,"

Shion grimaced briefly in sympathy before turning his mind to the evidence before him.

"In keeping with the previous cases the immediately apparent injuries are paramortum, ligature marks on the victim's left ankle and the damage to the remains of the right ankle are consistent with the wounds found on the previous victims and indicate that she was held captive for a time before her murder,"

"Can you tell how long?"

Shion shook his head.

"No, but I'd place time of death between twelve and thirty two hours ago,"

"The body was discovered early this morning by the manager of the coffee shop across the street, but, as usual, nobody saw anybody coming or going. Alright, take her down," she added waving her hand at the two officers waiting on the low roof of the store.

"Well who would be looking out for that kind of thing in Mid-Town?" asked Shion rhetorically, guiding the body as it was lowered carefully to the ground, "Out in the West Block slums, or the far northern border of North District, maybe, but the people here have been sheltered from violence and crime all their lives,"

Lin grunted a noncommittal response.

"This is interesting," he added pointing out the melted tips of the fingers on the victim's left hand.

"Why?"

"These marks here on the knuckles, and here on the anterior aspect of the left forearm, are very typical defensive wounds,"

"That's new," said Lin intently, "The previous victims were drugged, taken from behind,"

"This one saw her attacker coming, she fought with him. The killer probably dipped her fingers into some sort of acid, to make sure any DNA evidence was destroyed,"

"And to punish her for fighting him," Lin said with grim certainty.

"That I couldn't say," Shion said, "I'm not a psychologist. But looking here," he tilted the head slightly to better expose the charred section of the skull, "You see this pattern of fractures?"

"Yeah,"

"It's consistent with blunt force trauma and the lack of remodelling indicates it was a recent break,"

Lin nodded to herself.

"So the killer is creeping up on our victim, she hears him and before he can drug her, she turns, he presses the attack, she fights with him, trying to escape, so he picks up something and brains her with it, knocking her out,"

"That's what it looks like anyway," Shion agreed, "I'll swab the fractures in case there are particulates that weren't destroyed by the fire and I'll try and make a cast of the wound give you an idea of what she was hit with once I get her back to the morgue. I'll have an official cause of death for you once I finish with the autopsy but it's no stretch to assume she died of shock, like all the others,"

"Do what you can, double check everything," Lin said with a nod that was somehow grateful even though it was just as brisk and professional as all the ones before it.

"You'll get him, Lin," Shion said, trying to be reassuring, "He's getting sloppy, making mistakes,"

"Yeah, but how many more women are going to end up like this poor bitch before that happens?" she asked shaking her head as she walked away.

Looking at the face of the woman, grossly asymmetrical and twisted with agony, as he carefully manoeuvred her corpse into the black body bag and watching as two of the burlier officers carry it on a stretcher, loading it up in the ambulance; Shion can't help but wonder the same thing.

* * *

**AN:** So like I said this is my first time playing on this playgroud, let me know what you guys think especially of the characterizitions and feel free to review once, twice or three times.

More to come.


	2. Chapter 2: Beloved Strangers

**Stripped**

**Chapter Two: Beloved Strangers**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own No. 6.

**Author's Note:** First of all thanks to Anano for your wonderful review! You rock! Secondly...the story!

* * *

Since the body had to be processed and combed over for particulates, DNA and other physical evidence by the forensics crew before Shion could have it, he turned his com on and sent a message to his underling, Ryuichi, at the morgue with strict instructions to call him as soon as they were given the all clear to perform the autopsy.

He walked back to where he'd parked his car and stowed his field kit carefully. Shion then shrugged out of his jacket and tossed his cap into the front seat. With a sigh he shook his head, letting his white hair tumble back down around his face and neck, slipping the tie around his wrist since he'd need it later and putting the car in gear, he drove the few blocks west into Lost Town to visit his mother Karan at her bakery.

The bakery was bigger than it had been four years ago when the Purge had ripped through No. 6, or so Karan said anyway, Shion didn't remember. She'd hired a hand to help her with the heavy lifting, Kou, about a year ago and the two of them had struck up a flirtation that had quickly evolved into a full blown romance.

In any case his mother's business was booming and the delicious aroma of fresh baked bread and treats filled the air. Shion smiled as before he even made it all the way up the front steps he was mobbed by a veritable horde of children.

"Shion!"

"Big brother!"

"Shion is here!" they cried happily hugging onto his legs and waist.

The oldest at fourteen was Little Karan, who they called Kari to avoid confusion, then Rico, Karan's brother, and Lili who were nine and finally his namesake, Shion or more often just Shi, who was four.

"Kids, let your brother through," Karan ordered obediently they released him and scurried off, scattering to the four winds, all but Shi who Shion swung up into his arms as he moved into the doorway, "This is a nice surprise,"

"I was in the neighbourhood," Shion said kissing her on the cheek and accepting a fierce hug in return.

"I saw the news, that poor girl," Karan said shaking her head, her eyes bright with worry.

"Don't worry, Mom, we'll get the S-O-B, just let everyone know to go out in pairs after dusk, just to be safe,"

"Y'know, Shion, we grew up in West Block, we do know how to swear, better than you I'll bet," Kari pointed out trying to lighten the mood.

"You wish, shorty, I know words you can't even pronounce,"

"Getting all science-y when you're trying to cuss someone out is not cool, Shion," she snorted.

"Yeah, well, neither is swearing with a four year old in your arms. Where's Kou?" Shion added, slipping off his shoes and moving further into the large open kitchen-dining room that took up most of the first floor of the house.

"Next door, minding the storefront while I get the troops fed and off to school," Karan said fondly ruffling Shi's hair.

Though Shion was her only biological child Karan loved all of her brood equally.

"Mama made nutcakes," Shi informed him wriggling out of his arms and racing back to his seat to display the mangled pile of crumbs that no longer even remotely resembled a cake.

"Did any of that cake make it into your mouth, namesake?" laughed Shion.

"Nope," Kari said, popping her p derisively.

She drained a glass of orange juice in one gulp and returned to distributing packed lunches to various school bags, humming along to some song that was playing on the radio.

"Have you eaten yet?" Karan asked him pouring him a cup of the coffee she only made for him and Kou.

Shion savoured the scent of the bitter liquid. It wasn't like he didn't have coffee at home and it wasn't like he didn't drink the stuff by the litre at work, because god knows he did, but his mother's coffee was actually warm and fresh and delicious. More like liquid comfort than just a poor substitute for a night of actual sleep.

"Shion?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you eaten, dear?" she asked again patiently, stifling a giggle.

"If I say yes can I still have a nutcake?"

"Of course, I made some cherry cakes as well; you'll have to take one when you go, I know how much you like them,"

Shion felt his wide smile wobble a bit and bit into a nutcake to hide it. By the time he'd finished chewing he was able to say that he would love that and mean it.

He loved his mother; really he did, but sometimes the weight of the person she expected him to be, the reactions she expected him to have, was just too much. He wasn't the same Shion he'd been two years ago, and it wasn't fair that every time she baked him a cherry cake or watched him read to Lili and Rico or caught him petting the little white mouse that hung around the bakery, that she was looking at him with sad eyes, watching for something that just wasn't there.

"Mrs. K!" shouted Rico from the middle of the staircase jolting Shion from his musings.

"You don't need to yell, dearling, I'm right here,"

"Can I wear the purple sweater today?" he asked, brown eyes pleading.

The sadness lurking in the back of Karan's eyes came to the forefront as the ghosts of things that Shion couldn't remember flitted through her mind. Shion's hands tightened on his cup of coffee but he bit down on the annoyance. It never helped anyone, and he never felt better after snapping at Karan for things she couldn't help.

"It's too warm for a sweater, Rico, it's still only September," Shion pointed out.

"I don't care," Rico insisted stubbornly, "That sweater is special and I need it for luck today,"

"What's so special about it?" asked Shion curiously, for an item that was so important to his little brother he thought it was a little strange that this was the first time he was hearing about it.

"It's because that was the sweater—"

Rico's explanation was cut off by a scowling Kari who forced a blue t-shirt over her brother's head roughly.

"Hey!" Rico protested.

"You don't need that old thing, besides there's no such thing as luck, you do your best and you get what you get, in the end all you can do is try your hardest," she said sharply.

"But—"

"Come on, we need to get to school!" she shouted drowning out whatever Rico was going to say, "Lili! Get your shoes on!"

"I'm coming!" Lili shouted back brightly her pigtails bouncing as she skipped downstairs pulling on one pink shoe, then the other.

"Kari, don't holler like that indoors, Lili, no fooling on the stairs," Karan ordered sternly as she wiped nutcake crumbs off the front of Shi's shirt and helped him into his shoes and jacket.

"Mama!" Shi protested, "I don't wanna go, I wanna show big brother my coloring!"

"Some other time when you're not late for school,"

"Mama!"

"Come on, Shion!" Lili said taking the youngest boy's hand and dragging him out the door after Rico, "Bye Mrs. K, see you after school!" she waved.

"Make sure they get there safely?" Karan asked Kari as the taller girl pulled on her boots.

"You worry too much, Mrs. K," said Kari giving Karan a quick peck on the cheek and grabbing a few bags off the floor before dashing out into the street after her siblings.

"They're all growing up so fast," sighed Karan.

"They couldn't stay children forever," Shion pointed out.

"I know but it still makes me just a little bit sad, every day they grow and change is just also another day closer to the day they leave and start their own lives. It's a bitter sweetness," she looked up from the door and smiled slightly, "You'll know what I mean when you have children of your own,"

Shion snorted into his coffee.

"I'm not likely to know that anytime soon then,"

"I really wish you would go out more, Shion, meet a girl your own age,"

"I know plenty of people my own age,"

"Someone not elbow deep in murders, dear," suggested Karan.

The silence that filled the room in the wake of that comment is awkward and stretched on without shouting children to break in at convenient moments. Since it couldn't possibly get any more uncomfortable Shion gathered his courage, reminded himself not to lose his temper and asked the question niggling at the back of his mind.

"Why is the purple sweater so important?"

Karan started at the question flicking her eyes first to his and then down at the table and beginning to clear the breakfast dishes away.

"It was the sweater Karan was wearing when we found her and Rico, after the Purge," she answered evasively.

"But that's not why it's important," Shion sighed, "It's important because of something else, something about me, something I can't remember, why don't you just tell me?"

Karan shook her head vehemently.

"No!" she snapped, then more softly, "No, Shion. If you don't remember on your own it cheapens the meaning of the memory when you pretend to understand," she said quietly sporting that sad smile he hates.

Shion watched as she puttered around the small kitchen making herself busy. He sighed softly to himself, taking another pull of coffee, the bitter flavour lying thickly on his tongue.

He always felt guilty when they had conversations like this because it was just as hard on his mother as it was on him, looking at her son and sometimes seeing only a stranger or, even worse, a fleeting shadow of the boy he'd been. It had been two years since the accident, when was she going to accept that he wasn't going to get his lost memories back? Would she ever accept it?

Shion started in surprise as his pocket buzzed. Taking out his com he let out a surprised noise. He would have to thank Lin later. She'd apparently pestered the Captain and he had tagged the case high enough priority that the crime lab was able to gather their evidence in record time and the body was now officially his.

"Mom," he said hesitantly, "I have to go to work, I'm sorry,"

Karan nodded looking up from her dishes.

"It's alright, I understand," and Shion understood she wasn't just forgiving him for having to dash off at the drop of a hat, "Don't forget your cherry cake," she added quickly pulling a box out of the fridge and handing it to him.

"Thanks Mom,"

Before he could turn to leave Karan wrapped her long arms, taught and muscular from long days of labouring over large trays of bread, around him careful not to squash the cake. She smelled of flour and spices and clean laundry and Shion couldn't stop himself from breathing it in and letting the comfort wash through him. Memory and scent were closely linked, Shion often thought fancifully that in these moments where his Mom had her arms wrapped around him that he could recall similar hugs from all throughout his childhood. But that was nothing more than wishful thinking.

"No matter what, you know I love you, right?"

"I know and I love you too, Mom. No matter what,"

* * *

**AN: **There is chapter two. Since we never really hear what happened to Lili's mom, Renka, or Karan and Rico's parents I'm just saying that they are all dead.

Please review and let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3: The Rat in the Morgue

**Stripped**

**Chapter Three: The Rat in the Morgue**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own No. 6.

**Author's Note:** Alright, first of all thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted and favourited! To the wonderful Anano, not to worry I'm not abandoning this story at all! Now on to the story!

* * *

As Shion made his way down to the basement of the West District Police Department Headquarters he reflected that he was more than a little messed up if he was more comfortable in the cool concrete, stainless steel and shatterproof glass of the morgue with only the dead for company than he was in his mother's homey boisterous kitchen.

The dead though, they had no expectations beyond that he perform his job to the best of his ability. They didn't need him to remember who he had been before. They were simply empty shells of people who had been.

In that sometimes Shion felt he better resembled a corpse than a living person because what was he if not a living breathing shell of the Shion that had been lost that night?

He might as well be dead.

Shion shook his head to clear it of those thoughts. He had more important things to focus on than the memories he would probably never regain and the weight of his mother's emotional expectations.

Taking his ID card out of his pocket Shion swiped it to open his office door. He grimaced when he saw that paperwork was piling up again. He kept all of his detailed personal records on audio files but he still needed to file hard copies of the autopsy reports for the DA's office and the police.

He carefully wedged his mother's cake into the mini-fridge under his desk next to the dinner he'd never eaten from two nights ago.

With a sigh Shion moved out of his office and poked his nose into the break room.

"Hey Doc," greeted Mona, an autopsy technician from No. 5 with a freckled nose and a morbid sense of humour, looking up from a case file she was making notes on.

"Have you seen Ryuichi?" he asked.

"Yeah, he got you set up in room three and then headed out. He said to message him if you needed anything else,"

"Thank you Mona, if Detective Lin comes looking for me just send her in,"

"Will do," she agreed before turning back to her notes.

Shion continued down the hall and into the locker room.

Another swipe of his ID card opened his locker, and Shion quickly shucked out of his street clothes and into a pair of dark blue scrubs, scraping his unruly hair back from his face. He then set about scrubbing all the skin off his hands and forearms and calling it washing.

Once he felt that all microbial life had probably been scoured from his skin, Shion left the locker room and went and had a quick look at autopsy room three.

Everything was perfect, not that Shion had expected anything less from his meticulous assistant. His tools were laid out just as he liked them and a few quick taps with his stylus showed Shion that the embedded com was prepped and set up for holo-imaging and audio.

He slid the stylus into his pants pocket, and made a mental note to return it to its rightful place before he left, since he didn't really want to explain to Joi, the WDPD quartermaster, that he'd sent another one through the wash.

As Shion moved from the autopsy room to the cold storage area, he reflected, not for the first time, that it was really too bad Ryuichi was so squeamish about the actual corpses because he would make a wonderful autopsy technician. As it was Mona would have washed and tagged the body and sent the runoff up to the crime lab in case it revealed anything useful.

With another quick swipe of his ID card Shion entered the cold room. The lights were off and Shion cursed under his breath when the door slid shut behind him with a hiss, plunging him into darkness. He continued moving forward and groped blindly for the light switch wishing that when they'd built this place someone had decided to spring for motion sensing lights.

He paused as he thought he, not heard, more like felt something moving in the deep shadow of the cold room.

Shion had never been one to be spooked by the dark or the presence of the dead like some of his more fanciful colleagues but he was sure there was something there lurking in the shadows.

While his hand trailed over smooth concrete of the wall next to him searching out the bulge of the light switch he peered into the darkness in front of him trying to see what it was he was sensing.

Finally his fingers encountered the smooth plate of the light switch and with a relieved breath he moved to turn on the lights and learn what had sent skitters of wary sensation crawling up his spine.

The press of cold steel against his throat froze him mid-action.

"Don't touch it," ordered a cold male voice.

Obediently Shion let his hand fall from the wall back to his side.

As if his words had activated some sort of supersensory perception Shion could suddenly feel the warm weight of the human presence behind him.

Taller, he decided after a long moment, his attacker was taller than him but not really bigger. No muscle bound thug, he would be lean, but strong. He was used to this kind of thing, Shion thought. The knife didn't tremble in his steady grip and the man himself was still.

Shion's mind raced, taking in the danger that made his stomach clench, and formulating plans to escape and survive, each as unlikely as the next without some kind of weapon.

The weight of the stylus in his pocket was suddenly all he could feel. The actual point of the stylus was blunt, capped with sensors embedded in a firm malleable gel, and it wouldn't do much damage but the body of the stylus was shaped a bit like a paint brush, stainless steel, heavy and tapered to a wicked point.

A weapon.

"What do you want?" asked Shion.

His voice was steady but sounded husky and foreign to Shion's own ears, his throat clogged by the adrenaline rushing through his veins. He swallowed hard to try and clear it as slowly he reached into his pocket and took hold of the stylus. He drew it out slowly, taking care to make sure the man couldn't discern that his movements were anything more than nervous shifting.

"I'm looking for a body," answered the man.

There was something about his voice that made Shion pause as he flipped the stylus in his grip so that the point was facing back towards the man.

There was no grief, no inflection of any kind in that voice. It was too cold, too smooth.

Still waters run deep, Shion thought to himself.

"Whose?"

The question was quiet, barely above a whisper.

Shion expected a response along the lines of Mother, Father, Brother, Sister, Lover, the response he got was clinical and unsettling.

"Male, early twenties, five foot six, approximately one hundred and ten pounds, white hair, red eyes,"

Shion started and the edge of the blade bit into his flesh warningly. He let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh.

"Is this some kind of joke? Or is this your messed up way of telling me you're going to kill me?"

"Shion?"

The knife fell away from his neck abruptly and was replaced with one calloused but elegantly long-fingered hand tracing the raised discoloured mark that wrapped around his neck the other slipping under the back of the loose shirt of his scrubs to follow the snaking line down from his one shoulder to his opposite hip.

Another little shiver made its way down Shion's spine and his skin turned to gooseflesh.

How? Shion thought wonderingly. How does he know, the exact path of that stripe?

"It is you, Shion," said the man relief colouring his voice as he dropped his hands from Shion's bare skin and pulled him into an embrace.

Not sure how to react, Shion tentatively put his arms around the other man.

"That fucking bitch-mutt, I could cheerfully kill her right now, 'have you checked the morgue—'" he snapped suddenly pulling away.

"Who are you?" Shion interrupted.

"Don't tell me so many people put knives to your throat nowadays that you've forgotten all about me, Your Majesty?" said the man his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

Shion hummed, considering.

"You know me, but I've never met you before," he observed, moving so that he was leaning against the wall.

There was a sudden thud as a fist slammed into the wall next to his head and Shion flinched, blinking furiously as the lights flicked on. When he could see properly again he was looking into a pair of stormy silver eyes.

"Look," said the man apparently fighting to keep his voice even, "You're pissed, I get it, I would be angry at me too, but, and I can't believe I'm the one saying this, don't you dare pretend that we're strangers, not after everything,"

Shion cocked his head to the side, a bird-like motion he'd picked up from Lili, and used the pause to examine the man before him.

His initial hypotheses were correct, the man was taller than Shion, though they were about the same age, and though slender and almost delicately shaped he was made primarily of hard muscle stretched over bone. He had a pretty face set with those extraordinary eyes and framed by a long fringe of blue-black hair, the bulk of it tied back.

He was wearing tan coloured cargo pants tucked into boots that looked like they'd seen hard use since the day they were made. The grey-green canvas jacket and the black scarf wrapped around his neck seemed too thick for the warm weather but the man wore them as comfortably as he held the wicked looking hunting knife in his right hand.

"I'm not angry with you. I'm not pretending. I don't know you."

Shion said the words bluntly, clinically. He found that that was best when informing people from before the incident what had happened.

The man bared his teeth, a silent angry snarl. Eyes flashing warningly.

"Don't take it personally. It took me a year to get used to recognizing my own mother," he added with a self-depreciating smile.

"What are you talking about?" the silver-eyed stranger demanded.

Shion tried to gather his thoughts; this was always the hardest part.

"Shion!" snapped the man.

Shion sighed.

"Two years ago there was a…an incident,"

"What kind of incident?"

"I was walking home from work late one night, there were these muggers…I never saw their faces but they hit me with a pipe or a metal bat across the back of the head, knocked me out, took what they wanted and left me in the middle of the street. When they hit me they fractured my skull and I started bleeding into my brain, by the time I was found the damage had been done and I'd lost all my memories,"

Shion paused to gauge the man's reaction. Those impossible eyes roiled with emotions but nothing showed in his expression. Not receiving any response Shion plunged ahead.

"I regained my technical skills fairly quickly, as well as things like song lyrics, passages from books I'd read, but nothing about specific people or events, and I do mean nothing, not a passing recognition, not a hint of familiarity," Shion warned, "I don't remember you. I don't recognize you. I don't know you."

The silence stretched for long moments as Shion waited for the man before him to react.

Finally he moved, flicking the knife closed and sliding it into a pocket of his jacket. He moved forward, boot heels clacking sharply on the tile floor, and he grabbed Shion's wrist forcing his hand up under his scarf pressing it against the thin cotton of the shirt he wore underneath his jacket.

"What can you feel?" he demanded.

"Your heartbeat," Shion answered after a moment.

"I am alive and I'm standing here in front of you, that's all you need to know about me,"

Shion cocked his head to the side and quirked a half-smile.

"What about your name?"

"Nezumi,"

Shion raised an eyebrow.

"That's an odd name," he commented, "Nezumi, huh? Nice to meet you again, Nezumi,"

Suddenly Nezumi laughed, and Shion reclaimed his hand.

"What?" he asked frowning.

"You're still the same airhead as ever," Nezumi said chuckling, "Only you would relax and not try to fight back when some stranger put a knife to your throat,"

"Oh, that," Shion suddenly grinned a bit wickedly himself, and held up the stylus so that it was at eye level, "You're lucky you have such a pretty voice because I was going to stab you with this thing and if I'd even nicked your femoral artery you'd bleed out and die in under four minutes,"

Nezumi blinked in surprise, and then smirked.

"Good. I've been trying to bludgeon some sense of self-preservation into that skull of yours for a long time now, glad to know something stuck,"

Shion sighed.

"Nothing stuck," he insisted, "I'm in law enforcement, if I don't know how to protect myself someone is bound to kill me," he explained patiently.

"What are you doing in the morgue anyway?" asked Nezumi.

"I'm the chief medical examiner for this precinct," Shion answered, "I have an autopsy to do. Speaking of which, how the hell did you get in here?"

"The ventilation," Nezumi answered with a laconic shrug.

Shion glanced up at the main vent and sure enough the metal mesh was hanging loose, the lower set of screws having been ripped from the wall.

"Hmm. Tell you what, if you fix the grate, I'll smuggle you out the front way so that you don't get arrested,"

"Hmm," Nezumi grunted in agreement.

Shion moved across the room and rummaged around in the drawers under the industrial sized sink until he came up with a multi-tool, "There should be a screwdriver in there," he said tossing it to Nezumi who snatched it out of midair easily.

Shion turned back to the sink and washed his hands a second time before pulling on a pair of blue nitrile gloves and a smock.

"How did you even get in to this line of work? I never would have pegged you for someone who could stomach working with the dead,"

"Well," Shion said as he made his way over to the cold storage units, "According to my mother, after the Purge there were a lot of bodies just lying in the street, victims of some sort of parasite bee. Anyway obviously we needed to get them out of the streets but nobody wanted to go near them in case they became infected. I joined a clean-up crew and organized for the identification of the bodies and for the remains to be released to the families. Apparently I insisted that no one deserved to spend their days wondering if their loved ones were among the corpses lying in the streets. It was during that process that I met my mentor, and after all the bodies from the Purge were processed I convinced him to help me put together a team and we set about identifying the victims of this mass grave underneath the ruins of the old correctional facility,"

"You actually went back into that hellhole?" Nezumi said surprised.

"Yeah, apparently, wait, what? Back into?"

"Don't worry about it," Nezumi said waving off the question in Shion's voice.

"Well, I guess…I never could figure out how I knew what was underneath the ruins when nobody else seemed to, it makes sense…" Shion shook his head, "I did all of my training in pathology and anatomy, everything, while wading through that sea of bodies. Unearthing that grave really opened the eyes of the Reconstruction Committee to the depravities committed by the former government of No. 6. Most of those victims had their records wiped clean from the database and those were just the ones taken from the city proper. The people born off the grid whether in West Block or wherever didn't even have that much to identify them and no one was looking for them," Shion said a faint note of grief and reproach in his voice.

"Everyone in West Block already knew where their missing people were taken," Nezumi said matter-of-factly as he screwed one of the screws back into the wall.

"Yeah, I guess," Shion said, "Still, it's sad. It took the better part of a year to profile all the bodies, and most of them were left unidentified, cremated, given a number and filed away, just another data point,"

"It was better than being left to rot in that pile,"

Shion said nothing but nodded slightly in agreement as he looked over Mona and Ryuichi's notes on the conditions of the remains of Mai Risako.

"I'm taking her out now," he warned, "If you're squeamish, please vomit into the sink," Shion added opening the appropriate unit and pulling out the hover stretcher on which the remains were laid.

Nezumi glanced over and paled at the state of the body.

"Gods," he breathed.

Shion was quick to cover the remains with a drop cloth and he continued to tell his story in order to distract Nezumi.

"By the time we got done with the mass grave, the Reconstruction Committee had set up the skeleton structures for the new City Council, the District councils, and the new police force. As you might have guessed by that point chaos was running rampant, people were scared, and of course there were those who fed on that fear. There was a dramatic increase in crime but all the officials were overly cautious about prosecuting unfairly, given No. 6's track record. They desperately needed people trained in forensics. Since I'd been in the special program when I was younger and I had the most hands on experience they gave me this position and the rest, as they say, is history," Shion finished, scrawling his short-hand signature onto the tablet attached to the cold unit with the stylus.

"That makes a twisted kind of sense," Nezumi commented, "Like I said before, I never would have guessed you would end up here, you were always so uncomfortable around the dead, but when you explain it…"

"It fits my character?" suggested Shion.

Nezumi shrugged philosophically.

"It reminds me a bit of the time you buried Inukashi's mutt. We'd all left you alone and you'd never done anything like it before but you stayed and dug that grave. I don't even think Inukashi paid you for it,"

"Inukashi…why do I know that name?" Shion muttered, "Oh, she breeds and trains the police dogs for our district,"

"She's pissed at you," Nezumi said, testing his handiwork by threading his fingers into the mesh of the grate and giving it a few hard tugs.

It rattled slightly, but held which was really all Shion could ask for.

"Really, why?"

"Probably because she doesn't know about your brain damage and thinks you're turning your nose up at her company now that you're back within the confines of respectability,"

"Oh," said Shion pushing the hover stretcher over to the door and opening it with a swipe of his ID card, "I'd better go apologize to her soon then,"

"Not a bad idea," Nezumi agreed.

"Will you come with me? Seeing as I don't actually know where she lives,"

Nezumi followed him out into the hall.

"I don't know, I'm still pissed at her for making me think you were dead, and it would be kind of inconvenient to have to try and kill her with you there," said Nezumi.

Shion glanced over his shoulder and decided when he caught sight of the other man's thunderous expression that he was only half kidding when he said that.

Shion paused outside the sliding plexiglass doors to autopsy room three.

"Do you have someplace you have to be?" he asked the silver-eyed male hesitantly, chewing on his lower lip, "I'd like to talk to you some more but I'm not going to be done for another couple of hours…"

"I just got back into town, so no,"

"Do you have a place to stay?"

"Why? Are you offering?"

Shion shrugged.

"Yeah, sure, if you want. My place is kind of small but you can bunk on the couch until you find someplace better," he offered.

Nezumi grinned, mostly to himself, Shion suspected, as whatever amusement he derived from the situation was based in memories of events Shion couldn't even remember.

"I'll take you up on that offer, your Majesty,"

"Great," Shion smiled, "You can have free reign of my office, I have a few books in my desk drawer and the couch isn't too bad if you want to take a nap,"

As the door to his office slid shut concealing that piercing silver gaze from Shion, he let out an exasperated sigh leaning heavily against the cool metal of the door.

What was he doing? Hadn't he just been wallowing in self-pity because he didn't want to deal with his mother's emotional expectations? Now he had invited someone from his past, someone who despite his bold words would want Shion to remember him eventually, into his home. The only other place besides the morgue where he felt at ease.

Still, Shion found himself mezmerized by those eyes, and he was curious as to how he had met, and he suspected, come to care for someone like Nezumi.

Questions without answers swam around his brain and Shion shook his head. He wasn't accomplishing anything except giving himself a headache standing in the doorway trying to puzzle out the stranger now safely ensconced within his office.

Resolutely he turned back to the task at hand, the autopsy of Mai Risako.

* * *

**AN:** So, for those of you who might be interested to know, this is my second time writing this chapter because I had my laptop stolen the other day and like the doofus brain that I am I did not have any backup files.

Six months of blood, sweat and tears gone in an instant.

As you guys might know or imagine, it was more than a little depressing. So, the long and the short of it is, I didn't get what I had still in my brain down while it was fresh because I was too sad to write (and also didn't have a computer) and by the time I got back down to business I ended up having to re-write this chapter from scratch. Here's hoping it turned out alright regardless.

Anyway, as always please drop me a review on your way out and let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4: In the Lee

**Stripped**

**Chapter Four: In the Lee**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own No. 6.

**Author's Note: **First of all thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and faved! You guys are my inspiration! Secondly, get reading!

* * *

As the door slid shut on Shion's familiar, endlessly questioning, crimson eyes Nezumi fought the urge to tear it open again. Shion would not disappear if he let him out of his sight, he reminded himself.

Moving briskly Nezumi let Cravat and Tsukiyo out of his jacket pocket and together the three scanned the small office for recording devices. They found a few of course but all of them were clearly for Shion's work and not for spying on the white-haired young man.

Safe from prying eyes Nezumi let himself lean heavily against the door. His hands were trembling, he noted absently, and he felt exhausted.

Shion was alive.

The crushing relief rolled through him anew and Nezumi clenched his fists, teeth and eyes shut to keep the overwhelming emotion from spilling out.

The six hours he'd spent believing that Shion was dead were some of the worst in his life.

While he was travelling he though often about just returning to No. 6 and going back to Shion. He'd spent long nights as he approached the city agonizing over his reception after being gone so long. He'd been prepared, or so he'd thought, for Shion's tears, his anger and rejection, his joy or even his indifference.

He had not been prepared for Inukashi to tell him that Shion was newly dead.

All he could think at the time, as the knowledge all but physically burned him, was how could he have wasted all that time running from the potential for this pain. He hadn't been happy wandering the forgotten world and seeing all there was to see of the other habitable districts, not when Shion was so far away, yet he hadn't returned. He had shied away from the potential for this pain and lost all that time he could have been happy and felt the pain anyway, and it was worse because he couldn't help but think if he'd been there to protect him Shion might still be alive.

The moment he'd realized that Inukashi had tricked him, that Shion was alive and well and in no danger was…indescribable. The feelings welling up inside him had threatened to over boil and turn him into a trembling mess. As it was he hadn't even been able to resist the urge to throw his arms around the airhead he'd missed so damn much.

Then Shion had looked at him.

It was almost like that night they'd first met. Shion had stared into his eyes for so long that Nezumi began to wonder what he could see there.

That first night Shion had thrown himself wide open, letting the hopeless, hunted, and half-way broken Nezumi bury himself in his warmth and acceptance and taking in return a piece of him that Nezumi had never been able to retrieve.

Now there was a curious wariness in Shion's crimson gaze. Shion had looked at him, looked through him, but he'd closed himself off and his gaze had gone blank. Maybe Shion had always known how to do this but Nezumi had never been barred from seeing what the white haired genius was thinking and feeling.

Somewhere in the years Nezumi had been away Shion had learned the lessons Nezumi had been trying so desperately to teach him all those years ago. He'd learned how to close his heart to people. He'd learned how to shield himself from the pain that emotional connections could cause him. Even though this was what Nezumi thought he'd wanted, now that it had happened he grieved for the loss of Shion's innocence.

Nezumi turned back to the office in search of a distraction from his unruly thoughts and the impossible tangle of emotions that accompanied them.

It wasn't a huge office by any stretch. There was a desk piled with papers, a tablet, a mini-fridge, a typical ergonomic office chair, a filing cabinet and a couch that looked like it saw regular use.

Nezumi narrowed his eyes at the space in front of him. It could have been any other office in any other place, there wasn't even a picture sitting on the desk or tacked to the bulletin board, yet something of Shion clung to this place. It was in the way that the thick medical tomes were organized and the stack of case files that still needed attention and the fluffy throw blanket neatly folded over the back of the couch.

Nezumi shuffled through some of the papers curiously and grimaced slightly when he got a look at the grisly stack of photos from a few different crime scenes, all of them similar to the body Shion was currently examining.

He dropped into the office chair and began rooting around in the desk without compunction, grinning when he found the books Shion had mentioned. There was a well-loved looking copy of _Hamlet_. The spine was broken and practically all the pages had been dog-eared at one time or another.

"Perhaps you remember more than you think," Nezumi said quietly.

He opened the book up to a random page and ran his fingers lightly over the words a tad wistfully before putting the play book aside.

He picked up _Pride and Prejudice_ and snorted a little in amusement before placing it on top of _Hamlet_. There were two pocket paperbacks from newer authors that Nezumi set aside as well finally settling on _The Hobbit_ he put the books back in their drawer and threw himself onto the couch to read.

Hours passed in calm silence as Nezumi alternated between reading and dozing letting the scent and sense of Shion relax and reassure him.

Nezumi was still lounging on Shion's couch absorbed in the book when the door to the office finally slid open with a soft whush. He looked up and Shion walked through jaw stubbornly set and garnet eyes narrowed in annoyance as he yanked the tie from his white hair and let it tumble around his face in a shaggy mess.

Following behind him was a burly older man with thinning brown hair and the beginnings of a beer gut. He was dressed in business casual attire and had a gun holstered at his hip and he was scowling through a good two weeks' worth of stubble at the slender coroner.

"You've had my vic on ice for going on a week now Doc, I need that autopsy report as of yesterday."

"The autopsy was only just completed yesterday Olsen and I'll have the official report in your inbox later tonight," said Shion with what was clearly forced patience.

"Just because there's a high profile case with lots of media attention the ordinary everyday average homicides get shoved onto the back burner it's not right."

Shion stopped and did an abrupt about-face in the middle of his office his eyes flashing as he glared up at the detective. Olsen stopped short and even took a half-step backwards at the expression on Shion's face.

"Olsen, you're working a murder-suicide, the autopsy confirms it beyond a shadow of a doubt. This high profile case as you call it is about tracking down a wanton murderer who likes to torture his victims. Your perp is already dead and beyond taking a second victim. This guy is still loose and you can see how we might want to catch such a man before he murders another innocent woman and how that might be considered more pressing than filing paperwork on a cut and dry case. Get it?"

"Got it."

"Good."

Olsen's eyes flicked around the room, looking for something to take the attention off himself, and his gaze alighted on Nezumi who was watching the proceedings with an affected, lazy, sort of amused interest.

"Who's this?"

"An old friend."

"You don't have old friends," growled the detective suspiciously.

"Apparently I do, who knew?"

Olsen glared down at Nezumi.

"You meet this punk today?"

"Yes Olsen, and yes, I do see where you're going with this."

"Shion, you don't know this guy and you've let him have access to your office your computer, your files, and five silver marks says you've already invited him back to your place for tea and biscuits."

"I'm not taking that bet," Shion said absently rifling through the papers on his desk.

"So I'm right."

"I want a lawyer before I submit to interrogation."

"God freaking damn it all to hell Shion—" Olsen cut himself off with a huff and turned back to Nezumi, "I know your face pretty-boy, something happens to the Doc here and you'll have the entire department on your ass, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear detective," answered Nezumi unconcernedly flipping a page.

"Disrespectful punk," muttered Olsen scowling.

"Olsen as adorable as your unsolicited, unwanted, overbearing, overprotectiveness is, go away," Shion ordered.

Olsen grunted but turned toward the door.

"I'm telling Lin and Bear," he grumbled.

"You do that."

The door slid open and shut with another soft whooshing noise and there was a moment of silence before Nezumi spoke.

"How charming, his majesty has knights in shining Kevlar," Nezumi teased.

"It's annoying is what it is," Shion huffed running a hand through his hair and leaning his hip against the corner of his desk, his expression a mix of fondness and annoyance, "It's like have twenty older siblings and since I lost my memories I'm almost certain they've become worse."

"They care for you."

Shion smiled, "True, but if I didn't give them a hard time they would coddle me and the last thing anyone needs is constant coddling."

"True enough," agreed Nezumi with a dark smile, thinking of No. 6 as it had been for most of his life, the No. 6 Shion had grown up in, "He is right about a couple of things though. You don't know me but you know a little bit about me by now, why are you letting a guy who broke into your lab and put a knife to your throat have such freedom. You have no reason to trust me."

"Innocent until proven guilty. You've given me no reason not to trust you, so until you betray me you have my trust," shrugged Shion.

"Tch. Airhead. One of these days your naïve way of viewing the world is going to get you killed."

"Probably, but that day isn't today, I have a good feeling," said Shion shooting Nezumi a smile.

There was a soft beep and Shion gave a small jolt and immediately turned to his tablet and hit a flashing icon with his index finger.

"Lin," Shion greeted with a smile as a holo-screen filled with Lin's expressionless face popped up above his console.

"You done the autopsy? I heard from the crime lab that they got all the wash and prelim samples you sent."

"Yes, I've completed the autopsy and sent all my findings to the forensics lab they've got an audio video interactive walkthrough as well as my official report."

"Thanks Shion, I know I'm leaning heavy on you for this one."

"It's fine, Lin, really. I want to get this guy just as badly as you."

Lin nodded briskly.

"I talked to Kimi and she said that you sent her a bunch of measurements," Lin said a slight questioning lilt to her voice.

"I catalogued all the paramortem injuries and took a mold of the skull fractures. I'm hoping that with enough data Kimi can put together a simulation of what the victim endured before her confinement. The only way we're going to catch this guy in his lair is if we stumble into it. He's too careful about destroying the forensic evidence. So we'll need to find out where his hunting grounds are, Kimi and the lab are working on getting you your crime scene and if we can find that…"

"Good work," Lin said a ghost of a smile crossing her face.

"I'm heading home now, I've got a backlog of paperwork to file, but I've handed over my usual caseload to Mona and Dr. Haruka so I'm on call for you, whatever you need, until we get this guy."

Lin nodded brusquely.

"Good, I need you working this one Shion, none of the other MEs have the same range of experience with injuries that you do and none of them have your eye for detail."

Shion flushed a bit even as he shot her a teasing grin.

"No, I will not be your personal coroner," he told her mock-sternly.

Lin snorted softly.

"Be careful on your way home," she ordered, "I'll call you if we find anything."

The holo-screen minimized itself as Lin cut their talk short without so much as a goodbye. Shion shook his head at the empty air gathering up the case files on his desk. He quickly sorted them out and shuffled them back into their appropriate dossiers and then stacked them alphabetically by date, sliding them into his beat up tote bag.

"So, I don't have anything other than coffee and five day old take-out in my kitchen, do you feel like anything specific for dinner?"

"It's been awhile since I had your stew," said Nezumi considering.

"Alright, we'll stop off at the market and grab some fresh stuff. Just let me get changed."

* * *

**AN:** Can I just say gah! Nezumi is so difficult to write! He has such a complex character and I want to explore some of his emotional development but I kind of feel like he's still out of character despite my best efforts.

Anyway, let me know what you guys think by dropping me a review on your way back to real life!


	5. Chapter 5: Trusting

**Stripped**

**Chapter Five: Trusting**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own No. 6.

**Author's Note: **Check out my mad updating skillz! Thanks to everybody who reviewed, alerted and faved. Now please enjoy this next installment!

* * *

When Shion emerged from the locker room Nezumi was a little bit surprised to see him dressed in a pair of light wash jeans tucked into boots, though the white button down shirt and loose red button down sweater were more familiar. He picked up his tote bag and slung it over his shoulder and then bent down and took a bag out of the mini fridge. When he looked up he noticed Nezumi's intent gaze.

"What?" asked Shion plucking at the thin fabric of his sweater a bit self-consciously, trying to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Copycat," Nezumi accused with a smirk, nodding at Shion's boots.

Shion glanced down at his feet and then over at Nezumi's and pulled a face.

"Come on," Shion said rolling his eyes and leading Nezumi down the hall towards the stairs.

"No elevators?" queried Nezumi as they passed the smooth stainless steel of the doors and a couple of people in scrubs and lab coats.

"Not if I can help it," said Shion, "Those things are death traps. I've never liked them, well as far as I can remember anyways, and then last year I got stuck in one for three hours during a power outage. Now I avoid them on principle."

As Shion slipped into the stairwell Nezumi spared a dark glance over his shoulder for the elevators. Shion, even before he'd left, had never shown Nezumi any indication that he actually remembered being shot, falling, dying in that elevator shaft, yet even now he avoided elevators. It was something to think about.

"Are you coming or is walking up three flights of stairs really that strenuous?"

Nezumi snorted and turned to follow Shion with fluid grace.

"As if you can talk, your majesty."

"Wanna bet?" asked Shion shooting him a cheeky grin.

Nezumi arched an eyebrow the corner of his mouth lifting in an answering smirk. He'd rarely seen Shion in a playful mood, he looked about twelve years old, a far cry from the serious figure in scrubs he'd been just a few short minutes ago.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Last one up the stairs washes the dinner dishes?"

"You're on," Nezumi said spinning on his boot heel and dashing up the stairs.

Nezumi laughed a bit when he heard Shion's indignant squawk and the tromp of another set of booted feet on the stairs as he quickly recovered his composure and dashed after him.

Nezumi won the race, of course, but his fingertips only just brushed the door before Shion crashed into him from behind, sending the two of them stumbling into the hallway. He'd forgotten how fast the airhead could be when he put his mind to it.

"Cheater!" Shion cried, slightly out of breath, pointing an accusing finger at his dark-haired opponent.

"You never specified any rules, so how could I have been cheating?" asked Nezumi the innocent tone of his voice at odds with his devilish smirk.

Shion laughed. It bubbled up out of him with an unfamiliar ease as he grinned back at Nezumi.

"Shameless."

"I try."

"Come on, my car's this way," Shion said leading Nezumi down the hall and up to a door.

The white-haired coroner punched in a four digit code and swiped his ID card through the read and the door hissed open.

The room beyond was some sort of maintenance area.

"I sometimes take this shortcut when I want to dodge the media circus. My passcode and ID are registered at the front desk so there shouldn't be any problems there, plus there are no cameras back here."

"What if your detective friend checks to see if I'm on the list of people allowed to be in the building?" asked Nezumi.

"He won't," Shion said.

"Trusting fool," Nezumi accused with a shake of his head as Shion approached another door.

"Me or him?"

"Both."

"Olsen still thinks I'm the consummate goody-two-shoes," Shion explained, punching in his code a second time, "He'd never even think to consider that I didn't bring you in through the proper channels."

"Well, would you have snuck me in?"

Shion shot Nezumi an annoyed look as he held the door open for the taller man.

"No," he admitted a tad grudgingly.

Nezumi chuckled, stepping out into the warm late afternoon sunshine of the WDPD staff parking lot.

"Well, at least I'm not likely to be arrested over this little stunt."

Shion hummed in agreement as he led the way to his car. Reflexively he checked his kit before tossing the tote bag with all his paperwork into the back seat. He set the bag and box with his mother's cake more gently onto the floor and hoped that it hadn't taken too much of a beating in the race and his subsequent collision with Nezumi.

Nezumi, for his part, slid into the passenger's seat without prompting and Shion shook his head at the man's boldness. He would hazard a guess that Nezumi had never been apologetic about anything in his life.

"Are you going to get in or just stand there and stare at me?" Nezumi asked, amusedly.

"Stare," answered Shion just to see what he'd say.

Nezumi looked surprised for a second before recovering.

"You can stare over dinner just don't blame me when I steal yours, your majesty."

Shaking his head Shion took the hint and slid into the car, backing out of his space carefully and moving around the front of the WDPD building. As expected the crowd of reporters were staking out both the front and back entrances ready to accost anyone who stumbled into their midst and waiting for the Captain's official statement.

Shion shook his head.

"Glad we went around that," he muttered.

Nezumi shook his head a bit wonderingly.

"Four years ago a mob like that would have been gunned down in the streets or rounded up and sent to the Correctional Facility."

Shion spared Nezumi a brief sidelong glance.

"Freedom of speech, the double edged sword."

While Shion concentrated on driving the short way to the market Nezumi took the time to observe the city and the changes that had occurred since the day Elyurias fulfilled Shion's wish and brought down the wall that separated No. 6 proper and West Block.

There was animation in the city now, and chaos, laughter, love, tears and anger. You could see emotions in the faces of the people they drove past. There was an art shop with a whimsical stained glass wind chime in the window and in full view of the street a woman in a floral print dress shouted at a cringing man. In the shadow of a restaurant two teenagers were kissing their fingers interlaced. As Nezumi watched the girl pulled away giggling and flushing prettily, dragging the unresisting boy into the restaurant by their joined hands.

So much had changed in the time he'd been gone, it was hard to believe this was even No. 6 at all.

"Are you coming?"

Shion's voice broke Nezumi out of his reverie and, realizing they had arrived, he got out of the car and glanced around.

Shion had parked a little ways down a small side street filled up by new looking townhouses that sported small yards and a good number of window-box vegetable gardens.

"Where are we?" asked Nezumi curiously, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and following Shion up to the main road.

"We're on the borders between Mid-Town and Lost Town, this is Seventh Street here. Most of the shops here get their wares fresh from the farms in the North and East Districts. It's mostly just standard fare, for the exotic stuff you have to get it imported from the other cities or pay an arm and a leg for the things they grow in the greenhouses on the east side of Chronos," Shion explained as they emerged into the bustling combination of a street market and shop fronts.

"It reminds me a bit of No. 2," Nezumi commented weaving through the crowd with practiced ease his sharp eyes taking everything in warily.

"You've been to No. 2," said Shion his eyes going bright and round with curiosity, "What was it like there? I hear it's really beautiful."

"It has its good and bad points, like any place," shrugged Nezumi thinking of the baking heat, a string of hand carved beads and a woman with haunted eyes, five children and a scimitar.

Shion's attention was caught by something beyond Nezumi's head and Nezumi turned to see what it was.

"Ooh, hey Nezumi, do you like mushrooms?"

"Sure, I'm not picky," Nezumi shrugged.

"Come with me," grinned Shion taking hold of his hand and tugging him diagonally across the street.

Nezumi glanced down at their interlaced fingers and a small secret smile crossed his face as he allowed Shion to drag him up to one of the vendors.

Shion took one of the bags from the overhead dispenser on the vendor's stall and began carefully picking out twenty of some of the largest fluffiest looking mushrooms Nezumi had ever seen.

"How much for these?"

"Three silvers," said the vendor.

Shion was reaching for his wallet and Nezumi shook his head in exasperation. Some things would never change.

"Are you selling some sort of miracle drug or a couple of mushrooms? One silver."

"These are the finest mushrooms in all the free cities! I cannot let you have them for less than two."

"One silver and three bronze."

"I have a family to feed. My wife will smack me silly if I take less than two silvers."

"You can feed a family on one silver but I'll be generous and give you one and six bronze."

"You drive a hard bargain my good sir, one and six it is," agreed the vendor with a grin.

Bemused, Shion handed over the coins and took his mushrooms.

"I can't believe you were about to pay three silvers for a measly twenty mushrooms," said Nezumi once they were out of earshot of the vendor.

"That's what he said they cost," protested Shion.

Nezumi sighed.

"You're supposed to haggle with the street vendors Shion, they mark up their prices just enough that idiots and airheads like you pay them twice what their products are worth."

"But what if they really need the money?"

Nezumi shook his head at his white-haired companion rolling his eyes fondly at his familiar naiveté.

"None of these people are on the verge of starving or losing their houses I promise you and it's not like they're not making any profit."

"I'm no good at haggling," Shion said taking out a few paper marks before handing his wallet over to Nezumi.

Nezumi stopped himself just short of gaping at Shion.

"You idiot, now you're giving me this—"

"Yes. I've already told you I trust you, let you into my office and home, it's just my wallet," Shion said cutting off Nezumi's impending lecture, "Now go forth and buy me vegetables at a reduced price."

Nezumi just shook his head at Shion for a long moment and thanked Elyurias that Shion had only had to live in West Block for a little less than a year because any longer and someone would have killed him.

"Still a natural. Very well," he gave Shion a dramatic bow worthy of his days as Eve. "As his majesty commands."

Shion flushed a bit.

"Will you stop that? It's embarrassing!"

Nezumi pretended to consider it.

"No."

"I'm going to go buy the stewing beef and some bread. I'll be in that shop waiting when you finish up."

Nezumi nodded in agreement and disappeared into the milling crowd with a short wave.

Shion made his way back across the street and into the butcher shop. A towering reed-like woman with short black hair was behind the counter wrapping up a few cuts of meat for a man in coveralls and work boots.

"I'll be with you in a sec Doc," she called over to him with a smile.

"No rush Sloane," Shion assured her.

Sloane was Bear's younger sister, she and her husband had taken over the butcher shop from her parents a few years ago and pretty much every cop in the district came here for their meat.

Sloane finished up with her customer and then turned to Shion with a smile.

"What can I getcha today Doc?"

"Just some stewing beef, enough for two people with leftovers."

Sloane shot him a surprised look, pausing as she grabbed the beef from the display case.

"You got company Doc?"

"Yeah, I have a friend staying with me for a while," Shion explained.

"A friend or a _friend_?" asked Sloane with a salacious eyebrow waggle.

"Just a friend," Shion laughed, "He just got back from travelling abroad."

"Wow, good for you Doc."

"Why is everybody so shocked that I have a friend?" grumbled Shion.

"Nothing personal, but even before you lost your memories you were kind of a loner type. To hear Bear tell it your only good friends were him and Lin."

Shion grimaced.

It was true, his dedication to his job pretty much meant that he had no social life outside of work and his family, but hearing it from three separate people in one day just seemed kind of sad. He wasn't a bad guy, people liked him and he liked most people, but most of the time he felt it was just too much bother to get to know someone when he was already swamped with work or he wanted to make more time to spend with his mom and siblings or he just wanted to be left alone.

Sloane handed him the wrapped up beef and Shion handed her the marks without bothering to check the total. He was in here often enough that he knew the prices by heart.

"Keep the change," he told her.

"Thanks Doc, good luck with your dinner."

"Thanks Sloane, I'll see you soon."

Shion wandered down the block to the bakery and bought a loaf of fresh crusty brown bread. He then went into the café he'd pointed out to Nezumi and ordered a drink before sitting back to wait for the dark-haired man to be finished his haggling.

Shion spotted him and waved.

Nezumi had a self-satisfied air about him as he carried the large bag of produce in one arm. He tossed Shion back his wallet underhanded and Shion caught it easily.

"Hey, I didn't know if you were a coffee drinker so I got you hot chocolate, I hope that's okay. Everybody likes hot chocolate right?"

Nezumi dropped into the chair across from Shion setting the groceries on the table and taking a quick sip of his drink.

"Thanks. It's good."

"I'm glad," said Shion with a smile tucking his wallet back into his pants pocket.

"At least check it to make sure I haven't robbed you blind," Nezumi ordered with an exasperated sigh.

"If you were going to rob me blind why on earth would you buy me vegetables?" Shion asked rhetorically, making a show of taking his wallet back out and checking its contents.

He narrowed his eyes at the amount still left in there.

"You did actually pay for those vegetables right?"

Nezumi laughed taking another gulp of his hot chocolate.

"I did, though a lot less than you would have paid for them if your expression is anything to go by."

"So what did you get?" asked Shion.

"The usual stuff, potatoes, carrots, celery, tomatoes, I indulged a bit and got a small bunch of fresh basil and some rosemary as well, hope you don't mind."

"That's great, I have the dried stuff at home but fresh is always better," said Shion.

"What about you did you get everything you needed?"

"Yes," Shion said with a pleased nod.

"Well, what are we waiting for? I'm starving and sick of eating my own cooking, let's get going!"

Shion chuckled.

"Pushy, pushy. The stew won't be ready for a few hours you know you should grab something to snack on while we're here."

Nezumi shook his head downing the rest of his drink.

"The hot chocolate will tide me over and besides the sooner we get going the sooner the stew will be done," he insisted.

"Alright, alright. Let's go then."

The two young men recycled their empty cups and made their way back to Shion's car where they loaded their purchases into the back seat and headed back to Shion's apartment.

* * *

**AN:** Hey guys, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! Next chapter we see some more emotion from our favourite couple and I hope to have that out in a couple of days since I have the chapter outlined and I seem to be on a roll with this whole updating thing.

As always reviews, and by extension reviewers, are revered! Imortalize your thoughts in Times New Roman font!


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